


Captain

by Anonymous



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Caring, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manga Spoilers, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Sharing a Bed, chapter 105 spoilers, mentor levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Levi cares, despite himself: he checks the barracks at night, spars with Armin, keeps many secrets, and when everything goes to shit, he’s there to help even though he doesn't particularly want to be. It’s hardly surprising that Armin wants to return the favour.Spoilers up to and including manga chapter 105.





	Captain

His foot hurt. It was piss-awful; it didn’t hurt when he was in the heat of battle, but when it was quiet, he couldn’t even walk on it. Hange had said it was a tendon, and that rest would fix it. Rest. Right. 

Erwin’d been dead for a fortnight, and they were already out again. Testing Armin. Testing Eren. Testing every fucking thing, so that this didn’t happen again. 

Levi could see the logic in it — and he’d never tell anyone whose choice it really was to save Armin over Erwin. But his foot hurt, and it was late, and if the titan blood didn’t evaporate, it would still be under his fingernails. He nearly slugged the person creeping up on him as he watched the fire, until he realised it was Armin. 

“Uh,” said Armin, eloquently. “I…made you some tea.” 

“Tea,” said Levi. 

“It’s… for your foot. I know it’s bad.” 

“Tea,” said Levi, again. 

“Sasha makes it. For once a month… you know. But then we worked out that it was anti-inflammatory, so it helps with… the aftermath of fighting Titans.” 

He took the tea. It had a pleasant, minty flavour. 

“You don’t have to do this,” said Levi. 

“Do what?” Amin probably thought he looked guileless. 

“I didn’t save you so you could bring me tea,” said Levi. 

“I…know that?” said Armin, and Levi reassessed. He seemed genuinely confused. “I… I couldn’t sleep.” 

Levi knew that Armin had been sleeping curled between Eren and Mikasa that last fortnight — ever since that first night, they’d coddled and cared for him, as if it had only really just occurred to them that Armin was mortal, or that Armin was crazy enough to kill himself for them. Three of them barely fit into a barracks bunk, and Levi probably should stop them, but he found himself unable to give a shit about sleeping arrangements. His own bed was suddenly too large, after all. 

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong person.” 

“I’m not looking for sympathy,” said Armin. They were silent, then, and Levi drank his tea. These old bases were draughty, and the sound of the wind whistling through cracks in the walls and ceiling substituted for conversation. 

Eventually, Levi finished the tea, and put the cup down. He got up to put another log on the fire, the pain in his foot not absent, but diminished. Sparks flew up the chimney, into the night, as he heaved the log on, and then he limped back to his chair. 

“If you ever need someone to be unsympathetic,” he said. 

“Thank you, Captain,” said Armin, neither looking at each other, as the fire took hold of the log, and the wind cried out like human voices. 

___________

The first time Armin had to go into battle as a titan, he came out victorious. It was never a question, Levi thought, of Armin’s bravery, or fortitude — his superiors were idiots if they couldn’t see the boy for what he was. 

Hange babied him that night, petting his hair, getting him food with meat — actual, named meat — in it. Eren and Mikasa worried about him too, and Conny and Sasha, even Jean, and Levi wondered if they knew that Hange was fussing not because Armin was delicate, but because Armin was a titan; a warmonger, a killer. Had they forgotten Hange’s delight about those two fucking monstrosities that the female titan had killed? Maybe they had. 

Armin had nightmares. He slipped from bed most nights, whether behind or beyond the walls, and watched the fire with Levi. There was never any real conversation between them, just quiet companionship. The tea had helped with Levi’s bad foot, and he habitually drank it — he knew that Armin knew, and that there was an unspoken debt between them. 

Levi wasn’t expecting Armin to call it in by asking him to spar. They were on down-time after a difficult mission, and the group had gone to the river. Sasha was teaching Conny to swim; Jean was posturing by the banks; Eren was trying to convince Mikasa to join him in the water. Hange, true to form, was flipping about like a seal. Levi didn’t swim. Armin had taken his ODM straps off, in deference to the weather and the idea of swimming, but had gone no further. 

“No,” Levi said when Armin asked him to fight, hopefulness written on his face. 

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a child,” said Levi. 

“That’s a terrible excuse,” said Armin. “I’m capable of fighting titans. I _am_ a titan. And a brilliant strategist.” 

“And what,” said Levi, “does your strategist’s brain hope to get from sparring with me? I’ll just wipe the floor with you.” 

“I need to,” said Armin. “I can’t ask Mikasa. That would be a mistake. But… Tuivel.” 

Tuivel had been a village overrun by titans. Amin had had to transform when they’d overrun Eren; he’d crushed them in his huge hands, skulls cracking like eggs. Messy and visceral. 

“If you want to be punished, I’m sure Eren would put you over his knee.” 

“Please,” said Armin, and his voice broke, just a little. “Please, Captain. Fight me.”

“Why?” asked Levi. “Do you want to be beaten?” 

Armin didn’t say anything, but his cheeks coloured. Of course. Of _course_. As a titan, almost nothing could touch him. As a human, he’d been the victim more often than not. He was looking for something — something that Levi didn’t think he’d find in a fight, but that was a lesson Armin needed to learn for himself. 

“All right, brat,” he said. “How fast do you heal?” 

“Fast,” said Armin, voice barely a rasp. 

“Jaeger and Mikasa know?” he asked. “I’m not going to get poisoned at my next meal?” 

“Eren knows I’m asking you,” said Armin. “He… suggested it. Said you hit hard.” 

“Tch,” said Levi. “Be careful what you wish for.” He stood, and squared his shoulders. “You want this?” 

“I want this,” said Armin, and Levi swung. 

___________

 

Later, Levi found out that Eren literally had had to hold Mikasa back, once the squad had realised what Levi and Armin were doing. They’d found a clearing, just in earshot, and lined up to fight; neither had held his actions or pulled his punches, and once they finally parted, Levi had been dismayed to see that they had a small audience standing in shocked silence, watching them both with wary skittishness. Hange was _delighted_ to see how Armin healed compared to Eren, and gave both Levi and Armin little cakes as a reward for beating the shit out of each other, the provenance of which Levi was uncertain, but he accepted and ate, because it was a rare treat. 

Armin healed easily, but Levi found himself wrapping his knuckles — skin broken where he’d cracked Armin’s cheekbone, bruised where Armin had hit back. The boy was stronger than he looked, but his ribs had shattered under Levi’s kick just like anyone else’s. Levi went to the trouble of having a bath when they returned to town, left his skin clean but for scrapes and bruises, shadows on his body from what he’d done to Armin. 

He did his rounds, a little earlier than usual. He wasn’t obliged to, but it was routine — if pressed, he might say nothing, but privately, secretly, he thought there was something comforting about the barracks at night. His comrades, warm and safe. A lull in the struggle for survival that was all of their lives. 

Mikasa wasn’t bunked in with Armin and Eren tonight. She wasn’t in her own bunk, either — Levi knew better than to worry, but he still strapped on his ODM gear, knowing where she might have gone. 

He was right. 

“Hey,” he said, atop the wall. She was silhouetted against the night sky, wearing plain clothes under her ODM gear, that stupid scarf fluttering at her throat. 

“Captain,” she said, turning. “I can explain.” 

“You don’t need to,” he said. “Just like I could explain, but I won’t.” 

She nodded assent. 

“He said he requested it,” she said. “I don’t understand.” 

“You’ve never been beaten,” said Levi. “He has. And he wants to remember what it feels like.” 

“I could have done it,” said Mikasa. 

“You wouldn’t have hit him hard enough.” 

He couldn’t see her eyes. Didn’t know if she was accepting, or questioning. Didn’t know if she was— Her breath hitched. 

“You’re wrong,” she said. “I’ve been beaten. And I don’t want this cruel world to crush Armin. Eren and you and me — we know what horror people can exact. Armin…” 

“I think Armin proved today that he won’t be crushed that easily,” said Levi. 

“I know,” said Mikasa, softly. “But I wish he didn’t have to.” 

They stood on the wall as the moon turned from a huge copper coin at the line of the horizon into a smaller, bright disc, focussed high on the world. Eventually, Levi stepped forward and took her shoulder. She was small under his hand, bird-boned, like Petra. 

“Trust me,” he said. 

“All right,” she replied, and when he did his rounds again just after midnight, she was asleep on top of the covers in Armin’s assigned bunk, curled up at Eren’s back, one hand reaching over him to press against Armin’s side. 

___________

 

Things went in cycles until Eren left. Attack — defend — die — mourn — attack — attack — attack. They grew; Historia gave them funding; they fought; they died. And every few months, Armin came to Levi and asked, simply and plainly, to have the shit beaten out of him. 

He’d learned to be more subtle; he asked when they could slip away, when no-one else had to watch him self-destruct. Levi obliged. Levi always obliged, even though it left them both walking wounded for a few days after. There was so much they didn’t understand about the titans, and it was hard to know whether this tendency for self-immolation was a titan thing, or just an after-effect of living in their world.

There was so much they didn’t understand about how the world outside their walls worked. 

And Eren — Eren wasn’t patient. Had never been patient. Fury was patient — fury could wait years before acting. Rage — the rage that fueled Eren — would burn itself out without action. They’d all thought that he’d simmer into a slow-burning fury. Instead, he left. 

The first Levi knew of how his two best soldiers dealt with the aftermath of Eren’s departure was Sasha, disrupting an emergency strategy meeting — Armin was uncharacteristically late, and Levi had been going to send a runner for him, but then there was Sasha. 

“They’re going to kill each other,” she gasped. “Captain. I think you’re the only one who can separate them.” 

“Who?” 

“Amin and Mikasa!” 

He ran, followed by Hange, who easily kept pace with him. In the yard, Armin and Mikasa were sparring. As he watched, Jean tried to interfere, but got a black eye for his troubles. 

“Stop it!” Sasha yelled. “You’ll hurt each other!” 

“I think,” said Levi, “that’s the point.” 

It was impressive to watch. Long lines of amber light illuminated the pair in battle against one another — the sun was setting, and his soldiers were fighting one another. Mikasa was an Ackerman, and she had the speed, strength and skill to destroy anyone and anything she came up against. But Armin had the fast healing of a Titan, and he was steaming, a distressingly and obviously broken arm slipping back into place. He gritted his teeth, and threw himself at Mikasa. 

“Stop!” yelled Hange, as Mikasa beat Armin down, and blood spattered across the flagstones, evaporating as Mikasa kicked at Armin’s side. 

Levi wondered, momentarily, how this had begun. Had Armin been unable to find Levi, and asked Mikasa to hurt him instead? Had it been a genuine argument turned sour? Usually, the trio of Eren, Mikasa and Armin were inseperable. But Eren had made the decision to separate, and Mikasa and Armin were drifting without an anchor. 

“Four-eyes,” he said. “You grab him. I’ll grab her.” 

“What?” asked Sasha, but Hange was already running, and reaching for Armin as Levi took Mikasa. She swung at him, and he grabbed her fist, twisting it behind her back, the advantage of being rested and not running on rage letting him take control. He yanked her backward. 

“Stand down,” he said, practically into her ear.

“I—” she said. 

“Stand _down_ ,” he repeated. “That’s an order.” 

She went limp — not enough to fall to her knees, but enough for him to know that she was ceding control to him. He marched her off, as Hange dragged Armin in the other direction. He dragged her to his own quarters, and threw her onto his bed for want of somewhere better to put her. She blinked up at him, defiant, rage still simmering under her bland expression. 

“Sit there,” he said. “Don’t move.” 

He filled a bowl with cold water, and got a cloth. Her nose was bleeding where Armin must have got a lucky blow in. The skin on her knuckles was split. He ran the cloth over her face, her hands, cleaning off the blood and dirty smudges she’d picked up scuffling on the ground. 

“You’re an Ackerman,” he said, soaking the cloth, the blood staining the water. “If you hit someone like that, you have to be prepared for the consequences.” 

She bowed her head. “Will Armin be all right?” 

“Yes,” said Levi. “Hange has him.” 

“That’s not comforting.” 

He snorted. “Hange is probably braiding his hair.” It was true that Hange loved to pet Armin; their darling genius, their little Erwin replacement, their tame titan. Much more tractable than Eren, but only because he saw the sense in it. Levi was certain that if Armin disagreed with a directive, he was just as capable of disobeying as Eren was. Yet Levi trusted Armin, much more than almost anyone else. 

Mikasa leaned right forward, her head in her hands. “I was stupid,” she said. 

“No,” said Levi. “You were reckless. There’s a difference.”

“I just—” She broke. “He left us.”

There was no question who _he_ was. Levi was just as angry; that little shit. How dare he? But then there was Mikasa, who’d so seldom been beaten, who was the strongest soldier of the new generation, unable to fall apart in front of her peers. She sat on Levi’s bed and wept, as if that moment when she’d given control to him had opened a door between them. He sat beside her, and put a hand between her shoulderblades. 

“People always leave,” he said. He didn’t have any words of wisdom to share. “But that doesn’t have to detract from the fact that they were here.” 

He wondered if anyone else had ever seen Mikasa cry. Eren. Armin, maybe. He wondered how much sleep she’d been getting lately, if Eren were planning to go. He wondered how much she’d known about his plans. Eventually, the fumes she’d been running on ran out, and she slumped against his shoulder. 

“Ah, you brat,” he said, as he realised she was asleep, lifting her legs onto the bed, tucking her under the covers. “Get some rest.” 

Hange gave him Armin, who was just as exhausted. 

“We went to look for him,” Armin confessed. “He left us.” 

“Come on,” said Levi, leading him. “You don’t do that again, you little shit.” 

“I’m taller than you,” said Armin, weakly. Hange had indeed braided his hair, little twisted plaits keeping it from his eyes. “And I — it was an accident.” 

“I don’t care,” said Levi. “Come on.” 

Armin didn’t argue with Levi leading him to his own quarters. He inhaled when he saw Mikasa asleep in Levi’s bed. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” said Levi, and then, “I don’t think you need to be in the barracks tonight.” 

“There’s only one bed,” said Armin. 

“You really think I don’t know you share a bunk?” 

“Oh,” said Armin. He crouched beside the bed. “Mikasa.” 

She stirred. “Armin?” She reached out, brushing his cheek. He caught her hand, pressing it to his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, although what he was sorry for, Levi didn’t know. He left them, closing the door behind him, and then took Eren’s bunk in the barracks. Eren’s almost entirely unused bunk. His stomach growled — he’d missed dinner, missed the strategy session, missed everything up until lights out. Still. He’d been hungry before. 

“Captain?” asked Conny, as Levi stripped off his boots. 

“They’re fine,” he said. Conny nodded trustingly. “Go back to sleep, Conny. Things will be better tomorrow.” 

____________

 

When Eren’s first letter arrived, Armin came to Levi. 

“Make it hurt,” he said. “Or I’ll ask Mikasa.” 

The pair of them were waiting for Levi later that night, outside his door. He sighed, inclined his head, and let them in. He supposed neither of them wanted to be in the barracks tonight. Armin was still limping as he made his way to Levi’s bed. Levi had bruising blooming across his ribcage, and the beginnings of a magnificent black eye. He didn’t have enough energy to fight them both. 

“Don’t snore,” he told them, but then slept so deeply that he wouldn’t have heard it if they did, both of them curled up beside him, as if they were all children hiding in the underground, huddling together for comfort against a dark, cruel world. 

____________

 

The day Sasha died, something that had been festering in all of them came to the surface, something that had been rotting away since Eren left. They made it home, tension humming between all of them, Conny sobbing broken-heartedly, Eren silent, even Hange subdued. 

Mikasa followed Eren, offered to guard his cell. Levi half-expected Armin to go with her, but he followed Levi instead, grabbing his elbow once they were out of the public corridors. He let go almost immediately, stepping back as if he’d stepped over some line. 

“You’re not staying with Eren?” asked Levi. 

“I don’t know what to…” Armin ran a hand over his face. “I don’t…I can’t.” 

“You don’t know how to forgive him.” 

“No,” said Armin. “I’d forgive him anything.” He kept running his hands through his hair, and his voice broke. “Sasha’s dead.” 

“That’s what happens,” said Levi. “People die.” 

“Do you really believe that?” 

Levi had heard that on Armin’s first mission he’d frozen utterly, too shocked to move. But then, Armin had withstood being cooked alive to save the people he loved; Armin had let himself become stronger on the inside; stronger, perhaps, than even Mikasa. 

“What do you want me to say?” asked Levi. “Do you want me to tell you some great secret of the universe? Everyone dies. Everyone leaves. You enjoy living with them while you can. But in the end, you have to be able to stand alone.” 

“Levi?” asked Armin, and fuck it all, Armin was too intelligent to have this conversation with. “Are — who do you have outside of us?” 

“Fuck off,” said Levi. 

“No,” said Armin. 

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” 

“No,” said Armin, again. 

Levi punched the wall, hard enough to hurt, but not to hurt enough, so he punched it again. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid, not much older than Armin, too full of rage to wait for satisfaction. Armin caught his arm. 

“That’s not what you’ve taught me,” said Armin, sounding less shattered, more determined. “You’ve taught me — you’ve taught _us_ — the opposite. That there are people you can rely on. None of us have to stand alone. And it’s Eren trying to stand alone who has —” His voice cracked again. “It’s all fucked up.” 

Levi could have wrenched free easily. But he didn’t. He just let it happen. Turned to Armin. 

“Mikasa said she’s staying with him tonight,” said Armin. 

“You don’t need my permission to go and sit with them.” 

Armin didn’t let go. “Did you want to spar?” He inhaled shakily. “Because I need to do something with this — I need something.” 

“No. I’m in the wrong state of mind. I’ll kill you.” 

“I don’t care,” said Armin, his voice trembling. 

“I don’t want to lose two companions in one day,” said Levi. “I’ve done that enough times to know it’s a wretched, shitty thing.” 

He was reminded of that day when Eren left. Had Levi led his squad astray, with his training protocols, his own reticence? Tamped down their softer feelings and taught them that there was only fighting? Armin had silent tears on his cheeks. 

“Sasha’s dead,” he said, again, and Levi did something he’d never really done for anyone, not that he remembered, and used Armin’s grip on his arm to draw him close into a rough hug, almost like he was going to attack him, but then stopping, holding Armin as he wept — helplessly, bitterly, like a storm in a human body. 

“You did well today,” said Levi, as Armin brought himself back under control. “You did well. We got that stupid fucking letter, and you brought us there in time to help. You aren’t responsible for Eren’s fuckups, no matter how much you want to be.” 

He let Armin hide in his rooms while he went to debrief with Hange. Then he went to where they were holding Eren, and the children who’d killed Sasha. Eren and Mikasa were on opposite sides of the bars of a holding cell, staring at each other, like they could communicate without speaking. 

“Do you remember,” said Levi, “when Armin nearly died? When he killed himself to save the rest of us?” 

Neither Eren nor Mikasa answered. They’d probably expected him to bring up Sasha, but that wound was too raw for even Levi to prod at; he’d risk hurting himself as much as he hurt anyone else. 

“I don’t know what shit all three of you are thinking,” said Levi. “But we’ve all got limited lifespans. Don’t fuck it up.” 

_____________

 

He didn’t think that what he’d said had made any impression until he nearly died. He wasn’t aware of nearly dying, but they were at war, and Levi was much better at killing titans than other humans. 

He woke in a makeshift shelter, his head in Mikasa’s lap, Eren watching him with terror in his eyes. His gut hurt, and when he looked, there was a spreading bloodstain across his uniform. 

“Armin’s…” Eren began. Somewhere outside of his field of vision, Levi could hear sound and movement — a titan. There was a titan nearby, and they were just here on the ground. Fucking morons. “Armin’s angry.” 

Levi felt weaker than he’d ever felt, weaker still as he realised what must be happening outside. “And you’re not? I’m offended.” 

Eren laughed mirthlessly, his stupid hair falling forward and obscuring his eyes. Levi had told him to cut it. He’d refused. 

“Armin’s sparring,” said Mikasa, quietly. “He’ll be in soon.” 

“Is our position secure?” asked Levi, trying to sit up. He couldn’t. 

“Doesn’t matter,” said Mikasa. “We’ll keep you safe.” 

“Don’t be stupid,” said Levi. “You’re all too valuable to risk.” 

“We’re not leaving you,” said Mikasa, surprisingly intense. The titanic footsteps drew closer, and Levi’s vision greyed, coming back into sharp focus when a hand closed around him, gentling him, cradling him against Armin’s chest. Armin, who used his titan form sparingly, who was steaming with damage, cradled Levi as gently as if he were a bird fallen from its nest. 

Levi let the darkness take him. 

He woke in his own rooms, with far too many observers in situ. Hange was prodding at his wound; he looked down to see that the prodding was adjusting a surgical drain, and at the same time he realised that he’d been given enough morphine to take the edges off the world. 

“You’re lucky,” said Hange, administering another injection of something that made his veins warm and comfortable. “One inch to the left, and it would have been all over.” 

“Who else is dead?” rasped Levi. 

“That’s for tomorrow,” said Hange, dodging Levi’s hand where it reached to grab at any available clothing. “Don’t worry. All three of your pets made it back safe.” 

“I don’t have pets,” said Levi. 

“Huh,” said Hange. “Then what do you call those?” 

He looked, and his three proteges were asleep on the floor; Eren was leaning against the wall, Armin’s head on his thigh, Mikasa’s on his shoulder. 

“There’s spare blankets in the cupboard,” said Levi, and then he thought better of it. “Ah, fuck it; you might as well just get them a mattress.” 

Hange smiled, and put a hand to his forehead, smoothing his hair back. “Glad you’re not dead. This place’d be boring without you.”

“Mmm,” said Levi, as the painkillers took him away. 

Next time he woke, there was a futon on the floor, and he could hear a trio of soft, steady breathing, comforting in a way he’d forgotten, or maybe never known. 

_____________

 

His squad were harder and sadder than they had been, even a few scant months ago. When he did his midnight rounds, there were more empty bunks, and some nights he just stood in the middle of the room, listening to them breathe, thinking of all the mistakes and victories that had led them here. 

Some nights, one of them was awake. Other nights, they dreamed without waking — Conny was terrible for it, but when Levi told Armin, Conny started taking a peach-smelling tea before bed, and whimpered less with his dreams, claiming not to remember what had kept him up the night before. They all hurt each other, and forgave each other, and struggled through together. 

Eren, Mikasa and Armin didn’t fit on one bunk anymore — what had once been a stupid sleeping arrangement was now an almost impossible one, as they’d grown from kids to adults. But then, they’d curled together like that because their world — because the people in their world, including Levi — had wanted them to grow from kids to adults before their time. They still shacked up on patrol, ostensibly for warmth, and when it was so cold in the barracks that there was no other choice. 

Armin still brought him tea, most evenings, as they wound down in the mess. It helped with the knot of scar tissue in his side that no stretch or massage would ever fully fix. 

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” said a girl; one of the new recruits, a name he hadn’t yet learned, because he wasn’t sure how long she’d survive the war. “He can get his own.” 

“Don’t insult him, dear,” said Hange. “He’ll stab you in your sleep.” 

“No he won’t,” said Armin, sounding surprisingly fond. “But he does watch over our dreams. If you’re cruel, he might let some nightmares through.” 

“I knew my nightmares had gotten better!” said Conny. 

Levi didn’t know what to say to that. He drank his tea, and didn’t meet their eyes. 

“It’s true,” said Mikasa, soft and unexpected. “He’s the strongest fighter ever, and if you ever need someone to help you battle your demons, then you want him on your side.” 

“Or if you need to fight something in here,” said Eren, putting a hand flat to his chest. 

“See?” said Armin. “It’s only fair to bring him tea. He does so much for us without asking for anything in return.”

That night, Levi brought his blanket to the barracks, and took one of the empty beds. It wasn’t long before he felt the mattress dip. It was cold enough that his breath fogged indoors, and the fire in his room had been out — he’d thought it would be warmer in here, but it wasn’t. He sighed. 

“Levi watches over your dreams,” he said, darkly. 

“Move over,” said Armin, and Levi felt the gentle weight of Armin’s blanket join his own, followed quickly by the less gentle weight of Armin settling into the bunk with him. “Mikasa’s in with Eren; Conny’s in with Jean; I think that the little ones have got six to a single bunk; and I’m cold.” 

“I’m your superior.” 

“I know.” Armin didn’t seem to let that stop him. “That means its my duty to make sure you don't freeze.” 

Levi snorted, but Armin was warm and lithe against him. 

“I didn’t save you for…” 

“I know,” said Armin. 

“Go to sleep,” said Jean, somewhere in the darkness. Levi wasn’t even sure he was awake. “Or go fuck somewhere else.” 

“No-one had better be fucking,” said Levi. “Or you’ll be disinfecting the entire dorm tomorrow.” 

A giggle from one of the beds — the one where he too had counted six distinct lumps, all new recruits, all green and puppy-like in their enthusiasm. In his arms, Armin sighed. Levi didn’t fight it anymore; he closed his eyes. There’d be more bloodshed tomorrow. More death. More holding Jaegar back from stupid decisions; more fighting; more titans. But here, tonight, he was warm and safe and clean — and together with his squad. 

It was enough to be going on with.


End file.
